Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Thank you for making last Christmas perfect – but when I asked for a storybook ending, I didn’t quite realize that the magic ends at midnight.

I’m older and colder now, and I’m not quite sure whether or not to believe in you anymore. I believed in happily ever afters and goodbyes that lasted until the next call, but look where we are now. Honestly, all I want for Christmas, is to be okay (am I asking for too much again, like I did when I wished for my parents to kiss like they meant it once more?) I was taught that although miracles happen, it is always wiser to ask for things within reach. I’ll learn to self-soothe, given enough time, I suppose. But this season, I want three simple things :

A blanket fort, to protect me from the monsters in my head
A playlist without memories, so I don’t have to drown my tears in the shower
And my last summer loves to outlast this summer.
You see, I’m still laying the table for two, my answer machine still says we although now there’s only me, and I’ve forgotten what kisses used to taste like before orange and cinnamon became the only flavors I recognize.

I’m not sure how long I can dance alone on Queen while the candle burns lower and lower still. The clock is ticking away and the forty-sixth letter came back unopened, stamped “return to sender” again.
It’s almost midnight, and I want three simple things (but more than anything else, really, I just want to be okay.)

Maybe it’s time to write the forty-seventh letter now.

– Tanvi Deshmukh

sabbat_opened_letter1

Be memorable. Say something unforgettable.

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